Searching for Redemption
by Mercy Rule
Summary: He couldn't offer her any reassuring words nor did he have the power to replace her lost childhood, but Leonard McCoy could explain why he forced a child to grow up without her mother. He owed it to her, and he owed it to himself.


**A/N**: I've been lurking in the 'Trek fandom for the better part of two years. I love the fandom, but I don't understand why a large chunk (not shoehorning -every- Trek author into that generalization) wants to equate angsty McCoy stories to weak victim!Bones. I don't see it. I get that it's some peoples' things, but it ain't mine. Instead of bitching about it, I decided to put up or shut up, so this is my attempt at writing an angsty, hurt/comfort Bones-centric story that doesn't have him turning into a sniveling, whiny bitch. If it sucks, well, there's always the 'delete' button. Unbeta'ed - any mistakes are mine.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Trek or make any money from my writing. Lawyers, suck it. I'm just doing this for shits and giggles.

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The first message sits unnoticed on his comm for almost a week.

Leonard McCoy doesn't notice the little flashing light, nor does he see the blinking icon because he had other things to do. Those 'other things' were important, like making sure his brains weren't scrambled and that he remembered how to spell his last name.

As per usual, it was Jim's fault. Kirk insisted, then he pleaded, then he begged before he finally resorted to ordering McCoy to take part in some bullshit diplomatic function on Nica II. McCoy was halfway through the dinner course (he wasn't sure what he ate, nor was he entirely certain it was actually dead) when he felt a little tremor rippling up through the hard backed, uncomfortable chair. The unknown liquid is his glass vibrated, and before he knew it, the entire fucking ceiling came crashing down on the banquet hall.

Everything was a little fuzzy after that; when he woke up in sickbay the next day, Spock told him with a (mostly) straight face that they'd experienced a sudden earthquake during the 'interpretive dance' segment of dinner. Apparently, the larger portions of the cement comprising the roof of the building missed him when they fell, but he wasn't so fortunate with the chandelier. As Spock so succinctly put it, a bronze light fixture and human heads are not a conducive mix.

The Vulcan advised McCoy that he should expect some headaches, nausea, emotional imbalance and – dammit man, _he_ was the doctor, not that green-blooded hobgoblin – some irritability for the better part of the week. It took every ounce of self-control in his body to keep himself from leaping off the bio bed to punch the first officer in the face. Well, that and if he could figure out which of the four Spocks in front of him was the real one.

Kirk so helpfully ordered him off duty until M'Benga medically cleared him. In retrospect, it was a good move by the captain. The moment he was through yelling at Chapel for treating him like he was going to break, McCoy stormed out his own sickbay and promptly got lost trying to find his way back to his quarters. He lied and told Jim he was just resting when the captain found him slouched against the wall on deck 17, but the smirk on his best friend's face and the way he gently grabbed the CMO's elbow and guided him to the right door said Jim wasn't buying it. In retaliation for the coddling, McCoy practically threw Kirk out of his quarters before he passed out in his bed while his brain un-fucked itself.

Jim stopped by a couple of times a day, ostensibly to fill him in on the happenings of the ship. McCoy knew better, though. Jim's poker face had improved immensely during the ten years he'd been captain of the Enterprise, but the doctor could read him like an open book. Kirk was checking up on him, making sure that his memory was improving as his headaches decreased as each day passed. Progress was slow, but it was steady and exactly what M'Benga expected for a head injury as serious as his.

Though he could actually recall Jim's previous visit, McCoy knew he was nowhere close to ready to return to work. For one thing, he couldn't stay awake for more than a couple of hours at a time. For another, he couldn't concentrate to save his life, which was probably a bad thing for a surgeon. So he read a few dozen books, worked on his newest research paper here and there, and organized and then reorganized his quarters three separate times.

He was, in effect, bored out of his goddamned mind.

McCoy looked over at the chronometer on the wall. Kirk was probably just coming off alpha shift, and unless something else on this flying tin can of a contraption blew up, the doctor knew Jim would be swinging by in a few short minutes. He wandered over to the sink in the bathroom and splashed some water on his face, attempting to make himself look a bit more presentable. McCoy growled under his breath. It was a futile effort – his drawn face and the dark circles under his eyes would give him away in a heartbeat.

The chime at the door interrupted his thoughts. McCoy barked a sharp, "Enter!" when he heard it as he strode out into the living area of his quarters.

Dressed in a Starfleet Academy sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, Jim Kirk turned around and waved. He set the pizza in his hand on the counter before he pulled a handful of napkins from the pouch of his hoodie. "Bones!" he called, waving. "How are you today?"

McCoy rolled his eyes at Kirk's overly bright greeting. "Same as yesterday, same as the day before. I'm breathing. That good enough for you?"

Kirk pretended to jot something down on the palm of his hand. "Still irritable," he said. "I'll have to report that back to M'Benga."

"Yes, by all means, please go back and report to the Mother Ship, otherwise known as Geoff and Christine." Shaking his head, McCoy added, "I'm never going to hear the end of this one."

"Nope! But I brought pizza. In my world, that's a peace offering."

"Peace offering my ass. You don't know what that is," the doctor scoffed as he moved towards the couch and his best friend. "We are talking about the same guy who thinks it's insulting to run away from a fight."

Kirk laid one hand on his heart. "Bones! I've changed in the past ten years – grown, matured. You wound me," Jim said dramatically as his face adopted a rather petulant pout.

"The only thing that's grown is your ego," McCoy shot back as he went to pour himself a drink. He motioned to the steaming food creating condensation on his coffee table, steadfastly ignoring how it made his mouth water in favor of looking pissed off. "Now what kind disgusting, adventurous food are you going to try to force feed me tonight, mother?"

Jim lifted the lid of the box, allowing a nice cloud of steam to escape through the room. "Nothing adventurous, I promise. Just pepperoni and cheese, courtesy of the ship's galley."

McCoy grabbed his seat on the couch, passing Kirk a plate that Jim refused. Instead, Kirk tore off the top of the box and used that as his platter. He sighed, pulled two slices onto his own plate and took a bite. With his mouth full, McCoy said, "All right, Jim. What happened on the ship today?"

"Nothing too exciting, to be honest. Scotty didn't blow anything up in engineering, I didn't piss off any alien races, and Spock only said 'fascinating' once. So, by this crew's standards, that's a win." Jim said as he took a drink of the soda he procured from McCoy's replicator while the doctor wasn't looking. "But Uhura did tell me that you should check your comm."

"My comm? Why?"

"Probably because there's a message on there, genius," Kirk replied without hesitation.

The doctor furrowed his eyebrows, set down the slice of pizza before the pepperoni migrated to the floor and cocked his head to the side. "I have to think about where I put it. I'm not sure I remember."

"Concussion," Kirk reminded.

"Right," McCoy answered with a resigned sigh. Heaving himself off the plush, comfortable sofa, the doctor wandered into his bedroom. He attempted to shake the cobwebs out of his still-jumbled brain as he tried to recall the location of the small device. The last time he had it was right before Jim made him beam down to that godforsaken diplomatic function – oh. It was probably crushed. McCoy made his way back into the living room, growling at Jim as the younger man produced a new comm unit from his pocket and tossed it on the table.

"I had to make you think about, Bones. Doctor's orders," Kirk told him with a coy smile.

"Dammit man, I'm the doctor here! How you survived twenty-four years before I met you I will never understand! Now gimmie that thing and shut your trap," McCoy admonished as he took two long strides to the table. He swiped the comm off the surface and flipped it open as he reclaimed his seat on the couch.

The doctor muttered a few choice insults under his breath while he inspected the new unit. He moved quickly through the menus, making a few minor alterations to suit his use better before his finger hovered over the blinking 'new message' button. The fact that there was a message for him at all gave McCoy reason to pause. He didn't have much occasion to check the thing; very few people had his frequency, and even fewer actually used it. His friends were all on board the Enterprise, and sadly, they all knew _exactly_ where to find him at every second of every day.

The sender's name, Maria Alexeeva, didn't immediately ring any bells, but quite frankly, McCoy wasn't entirely surprised. There was a lot lately that wasn't computing. Nibbling on his lip, he clicked the entry.

'_Dr. McCoy,_

_It's taken me almost fifteen years to work up the courage to write you this letter. Probably a good thing, too, because a few years ago, I'd have simply told you to go fuck yourself with a rusty railroad spike and then not given you another thought. But times change, and people change. And after some things that I've gone through recently in my life, I think I might understand you a little more now._

_My mother was Raisa Shukova. _

_I'll bet you remember that name_.'

McCoy nearly dropped the comm on the floor. He tightened his grip on the unit with such force that his knuckles turned white. With shaking hands, he set the comm on the table and dropped his head into his hands.

Kirk stayed uncharacteristically quiet. He leaned his head over and laid a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Bones?" he questioned when the gesture earned him no response. "You okay, man? Talk to me – you're starting to freak me out here."

Drawing in a deep breath of recycled air, McCoy exhaled loudly but didn't raise his head. "Do you know why I lost my civilian medical license, Jim?"

"Yeah, I do," Kirk replied after a beat.

McCoy straightened to face the captain. "I didn't think I told you that story."

Kirk averted his eyes. "You didn't," he admitted. "You didn't seem like you wanted to tell me, but I was curious. I did some of my own research."

"You've never asked me about it. Why?" McCoy queried through narrowed, suspicious eyes.

"I just figured you'd tell me when you were ready when we were at the academy, and then the subject never came up. Well, that's kind of Nero's fault, but you know how that goes," Kirk answered with a passive shrug of his shoulders. "What happened in Georgia didn't then and it doesn't make any difference to me, but I had to know."

Pursing his lips, the doctor said, "I suppose that's fair. Are you ready to hear that story now? I'm gonna warn you it's pretty damned depressing, so you might be going against M'Benga's marching orders."

Jim, all traces of playboy, easygoing, laid back captain completely absent from face, replied with a sincere, "I'm ready only if you want to tell me."

Before he could lose his nerve, McCoy dived in. He got up, retrieved the bottle from the kitchenette and poured two drinks. He swirled the amber liquid around the bottom of the glass and leaned back into the couch cushions. "What you saw the day we met on the shuttle – that wasn't shit compared to what I'd already gone through. I'd lost my dad, my marriage was all but over, and I was about to watch my little girl be raised by another man. And then Raisa Shukova showed up in the ER showing signs of premature labor…"

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If it sucks, updates will probably be slower, but I like it so it'll get finished.


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